


light the fire

by cptsuke



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:55:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26153812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptsuke/pseuds/cptsuke
Summary: old pacific rim au from way back s2?s3?
Kudos: 6





	light the fire

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this for funsies way back when and recently ive decided to just bite the bullet and archive my little snippet fics.

Lydia Martin, Derek thinks, her parents one of the few couples to successfully pilot a Jaeger together; though rumor had it that they even when they wanted to tear each others throats out - which was most of the time - their drift sync never wavered. That’s all Derek knows about the chief science officer standing in front of him.

"He can be a bit unstable," she says apropos to nothing. "directly upon contact. But he and McCall have never dropped below a 99 percent drift sync. He can do it."

Her sharp eyes study him for a long moment, silence stretching between them.

"If you can do it."

He's not sure what she means by that. So he says nothing, just gives a noncommittal nod and hopes she goes away

.

Chief Science Officer Lydia Martin stares at him for a moment longer, perfectly painted lips pursed together, then she turns and walks away, heels clicking sharply with each step.

Derek stands before the Jaeger - not his - Beacon Avenger looming over him. The pilot's names McCall & Stilinski stenciled above a stars and stripes motif (the stars shooting outwards from a striped red and white background.) BeaconAvenger scrawled below. The ‘Stilinski’ centered over it, as if the 'McCall' added as an afterthought.

_Or at a later date,_ Derek muses, Beacon was one of the oldest still functioning, in service Jaegers. It was, he thinks, trying to remember the First Days when the giants first walked and fought, a husband and wife team. Stilinski. Jenna and The Sheriff.

Obviously. He thinks. Not anymore. The sheer amount of loss the Jaeger Program had suffered sometimes staggered him.

The Beacon's massive chest plates have been rented apart, long gouge marks, the edges curling outwards where the Kaiju had opened her like a sardine can.

It's impressive, he thinks. An impressive wreck.

From the ruined breast plate to the exposed mechanics on both legs. But it's the snapped off chain sword, it's joints welded together from the sheer force of the impact it had had with the Kaiju. That really caught his attention, and imagination.

The drift sync, he thinks, between the two pilots was impressive. With all the damage, even the cockpit not escaping the thrashing, both pilots must have been hurting, seriously if Derek knows anything about anything about, and yet somehow the final killing stroke had been strong enough to do that to the blade.

Footsteps shuffle behind him, the careful treading of a man not wanting to startle the person he was walking up on. The Sheriff is standing behind him at a polite distance when he turns. e looks good for a man no longer capable of piloting. But then, while the Kaiju might tear and shred, the Jaeger’s didn't exactly coddle their pilots either, even if most of the marks left by piloting them were hidden deep and unseen.

It's a harsh reality that no one really talks about, the world's going to shit so complaining about something that might kill you in a decade - especially when a year seemed unlikely most times - well, there didn't seem much point.

"Hale, glad you could make it."

He hadn't wanted to. There was a thousand other things he'd rather be doing - bathing in battery acid sounded nicer - but when he'd heard they had recommissioned Alpha Echo, he couldn't not.

If Alpha was going to fight, it'd be with Derek in the cockpit.

"Sir," he says in lieu of saying anything else not willing to vocalize his thoughts.

The Sheriff comes to stand beside him, hands in pockets he seems to almost forget Derek's presence and he looks at the Jaeger in front of him.

"Will you fix it?" Derek asks, mostly to distract the man, he doesn't like the contemplative look on his face. Contemplating destroyed things your loved ones had been in never ended well.

"They don't want to give us the resources, finances or, hell, even pay for the manpower required to put this thing back together.” He shakes his head, a bitter smile on his lips.

Derek looks on expectantly and the Sheriff nods, mouth thinning to a determined line.

“She’ll be operational as soon as humanly possible. Takes more than bureaucrats to take the Beacon down.”

He looks back at the Jaeger in front of them.

“And I believe we’ll still need the Jaegers for a long while yet.”

“Not a fan of the Wall Initiative?” Derek asks, liking the belligerence in The Sheriff’s voice.

“Hale, can you tell me one good instance where deciding to hide under the bed and ignore the Kaiju, just hoping they’ll go away, actually worked?”

“No, sir.”

The Sheriff shakes his head; disgusted with life, a world weary exasperation on his face.

“No, we’re going to rebuild, because when - when, not if - the walls come crashing down, we’re going to need all hands on deck, and I’ll be damned if Beacon Avenger isn’t standing alongside them.”

His cellphone ringing ruins the moment, and after a few terse words The Sheriff scowls at his phone then smiles apologetically at Derek and says ‘I gotta take this, I’ll send someone to escort you the rest of the way.’

Then he leaves Derek to the Beacon and his thoughts.

“Hey! Hey!” A steady beat of clumping clicks close in on him. Derek looks in the noise’s direction. A dark eyed teen with a cast that covers his right leg all the way up to the thigh is maneuvering his way over to Derek. A spiderweb of healing cuts run out from under his hairline; dogged by the yellows and browns of serious bruises healing.

“Derek Hale right? Alpha’s first pilot, yeah?”

Derek grunts in assent.

Sometimes it felt like Alpha was built for just him and Laura alone. That thought opens up an uncomfortable box of sharing, he’s going to have to pilot Alpha with someone who was decidedly not Laura. Some kid that probably never had to fight for the right to pilot, some brat that thought piloting was a birthright and had skimmed through life nice and easy, never had to fight and claw his way through the ranks, never having to prove himself over and over (and over and over) that he not only could pilot a Jaeger, but was the best damned choice.

(He’s only a little bitter.)

“That’s awesome, I’m Scott” He says, shoving a hand out in Derek’s direction, leaning heavily on his crutches and nodding his head at his name printed on the Beacon. “McCall. Have you seen Alpha yet?”

“Just The Beacon,” Derek nods at the Jaeger in front of them and is surprised at the grin Scott gives the machine. Entirely too happy and too fond for something that has broken him so badly.

Silence stretches out before McCall nods and breaks it with another good natured smile and his head cocked in the direction they should go.

“Come on, I’ll show you to Alpha. You should see it, looks good man.”

Derek doesn’t say anything as he follows him, keeping instep and listening to the creaking metal of McCall’s crutches. He moves fast on those things, faster than anyone had any right too.

“Be good to him, yeah?” McCall isn’t looking at him, eyes forward, face carefully blank. “I know-”

He pauses, lets out a heavy sigh. Maybe he’s uncomfortable with exposing his thoughts to a stranger, or maybe just he can’t find the words.

“They’ve been testing him for new partners for weeks.”

(or maybe he just wants to make sure he uses the right words.)

Derek can’t help his wince at those words.

The first time he Drifted - After Laura - he’d punched the person he’d been partnered with. Deucalion had been a bag of dicks wrapped up in over entitlement and a flare for being over dramatic. But it had been his next - and final - partner attempt that had sent him running from the entire Jaeger Project.

The fact that they had actually managed to Drift just made it worse, the overwhelming sense of wrongness and all round dirtiness he’d been left with, Derek had never wanted a shower as much as he had after Drifting with Kate Argent. She’d picked through his head - through his life - like it was her personal playground; and even Deucalion hasn’t left him feeling so used and worthless.

Derek wished he could say he knocked her out too, but all he had done upon disconnecting was stumble a few steps and vomit. The next day he was a thousand miles away and keen to make it at least twice that.

“They started saying, after me, after his dad, after what happened with Beacon,” Scott pauses again, for the first time looking uncomfortable with his injuries. “They’re starting to say that maybe its time for someone else, that maybe it’s time for a break. But that’s bullshit - Stiles is right - they think he’s burnt out - used up - like getting the Beacon home was all on me,”

McCall’s fists curl tightly around the metal of crutches, and his good humor fading under frustration.

“Like because he had a panic attack when we finally beached, he doesn’t deserve to pilot anymore. And, you know, maybe I was conscious, and maybe he didn’t pilot Beacon all by himself but he would’ve, it would’ve killed him but he still would’ve done it. If it hadn’t been for him,” McCall looks at him; he’s angry, not at Derek, but at everything and Derek gets the feeling he hasn’t had anyone to share this opinion with.

“You’ve Drifted, really Drifted,” He’s quieter now, looking inward. “with perfect sync - you know I mean it when I say I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Stiles. He kept me sane, gave me something to hang on when I really wanted to. He kept me alive.”

Derek doesn’t know what to say to that; he has a feeling his previous unkind thoughts might have been too hasty, but isn’t willing to say anything yet.

Finally they reach Alpha’s hangar, the Jaeger dwarfing even the massive doorway in. McCall’s head bobs in it’s direction; as he fiddles with his crutches apparently unwilling to cross the threshold.

Someone tall and thin is waving from up at the walkway in front of Alpha’s chest.

McCall’s fingers wiggle in the figure’s direction. His partner, maybe. Derek’s to-be partner, maybe.

“Thanks,” Derek says, aware that it’s the first words he’s said for a long while.

“Alright then, I’m sure you can find your way from here,” He goes to turn - to walk away - then pauses, looks back at Derek and smiles; a little less bright, but somehow more sincere. “Be good to my brother, Hale.”

And then he’s gone before Derek can answer him and Derek is left to his new partner. And Alpha Echo.

Stilinski looks young - even younger than McCall which is saying something - but his hands move with a sureness that speaks of experience.

“Derek Hale, right?”

He’s nervous, he looks nervous.

“Nervous?”

Stilinski laughs - a short but loud hah - then looks over at him, looking a Derek through thick, dark eyelashes.

“I have done this before, you know?”

It would sound cocky, if Stilinski didn’t sound so much like he was trying to convince himself of the fact.

They don’t have much time for Getting To Know Each Other - not that time would’ve helped much, with Derek single word speech patterns and Stilinski’s apparent need to use all the words - and rushed to be suited up and ready to test out their Drift compatibility.

Derek’s beginning to see what McCall was saying about people wanting to move on. The hurried way they’re shoved into the trial - not getting the time to get a feel for each other - it feels like they’re being set up to fail. So everyone could make them walk away with a Well We Tried and get newer - less damaged - pilots, ones that weren’t carrying the weight of dead souls and perceived mistakes around with them.

Derek settles into the drift, his memories and life rising in his head like silt in suddenly stirred up water. His least favorite memory, the one that’s mostly not his, the one that haunts him every waking hour, bubbles up into his consciousness. But he doesn't dwell on the terror of being torn from their Jaeger, doesn't dwell on the pain of skin, muscle and bone cleaving apart, lets how scared she was, her all encompassing fear wash past him, and definitely doesn’t let the fact that she was most scared _for him_ color his thoughts. It doesn't matter. And even if it did - it did - there was nothing to be done about it now.

Stilinski makes a noise, a soft mewl that sounds like he didn't mean to let it escape.

From the kid memories start crossing over, the strongest an overwhelming sense of white shudders over Derek. White walls. White sheets. White clothing. Paper thin white skin. A tired, kind, _sad_ face smiles for an instant. A woman in white, no a pale hospital gown, something she wasn't going to be wearing for long. Because she wouldn't be anywhere for much longer.

Everyone knew that Jenna Stilinski had died from the massive cerebral hemorrhaging that was so darned inevitable in those that had lead the Jaeger Project from its inception.

The memory passes quicker than the others, a flash of a moment condensed into a blink of an eye, but it feels more painful for all its swiftness. As if Stiles was so used to the memory’s pain that it didn't drag him under.

Good, Derek thinks, he doesn't want to be trapped in the memory of a mother slowly dying. He's got enough of his own shitty experiences thank you.

The next memory slams him just as he begins to relax into the drift. A crushing wave of anxiety and Derek risks a look - tears are streaming down the boy's face, his eyes resolutely staring at the nothing in front of him.

He's lost him, Derek thinks, god freaking damn.

"Stilinski! Kid! Hey!” Derek yells, trying to get his attention, break him from the memory. “Stiles!"

The searing memory of a Kaiju's claws dragging across his skin, Derek somehow both watching the memory and feeling it, the kid - impossibly young now - sags in his harness, blood pouring as skin tears.

"Stiles! Son! Stiles!" A voice shouts over Derek's attempts.

Derek turns; The Sheriff, his face torn with conflicting emotions, the need to get to his son and the knowledge that they'll both die if he doesn't remove the Kaiju threat.

Weakly, slowly, the kids head lifts, his body straightening itself out of it's boneless sag, hyperventilating breaths puff through clenched teeth.

His arm draws back - perfectly in sync with The Sheriff despite the fact that he has to be in a mind numbing amount of pain - and Derek can hear the sound of the Jaeger's blade engaging.

Derek turns to see, to follow the memory because he's caught up, he shouldn't be, he absolutely should not be, but.

The memory cuts off.

And he's back in his harness, the memory a mere flicker in the back of his mind, his display blinking resolutely at him and those big amber eyes narrowed at him.

Derek glares back and they drop back to stare at the display in front of him, a look of self annoyance crossing Stiles' face.

"Sorry." He murmurs. "More used to Scott's brohug mental presence, god you're surly."

Derek says nothing, just lowers his eyebrows and lets his expression do the talking.

"There, there, big guy I'm sure you've got a brohug in your head somewhere, when you're not.. oh my god you're scowling like a serial killer."

Stiles laughs, a kind of nervous bark of laughter that falls silent, both in voice and thought.

"I'm sorry." He says finally. Quiet. Sincere.

"You good?" Derek asks, ignoring the emotions sparking bright, not the bravado of before, nor teasing sarcasm, or the joking comradeship Derek had seen between the kid and his father.

This was something deeper, a quiet thrum of steadfastness that bloomed warmth across their connection.

This was the Jaeger pilot, he thinks. The steady confidence burning through him.

Stilinski's arm moves - the beginnings of Alpha's arm flex - Derek looks down, almost amazed that his own has moved as well, completely in sync.

Stilinski looks at him, a face full of bright determination.

"I'm good." He answers, as he couldn't just feel Derek's approval.

"We're good." Derek confirms, bringing Alpha's other arm up.

Stiles doesn’t break eye contact as he completes the fighters salute, the display glowing green as it happily announced their achieved drift.

Alpha Echo is one of the fastest Jaeger built. Not fast like Striker Eureka - whose landspeed bordered on the unbelievable - but on reflex time and limb speed, none came close to Alpha.

Putting the newly refurbished Alpha Echo through its paces is an exercise in quiet sense memory; exhilarating, familiar, like somehow - in all the years since Laura - Derek had forgotten how much he loved piloting.

“Oh my god,” Stiles breathes the words out on an awed breath. A smile slowly breaks out, brightening, lighting up his entire face like a goddamn sunrise.

“Dude, this machine is beautiful.”

Derek hums, the corner of his lips lifting, a sort of happiness curling in his chest


End file.
